


Red Umbrella

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, Rainy days and a touch of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 07:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20205904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Semi's life has turned into a boring routine. He goes to work, he comes home, and then starts all over again. Nothing changes, until he breaks that cycle to find shelter on a rainy day. He meets someone from his distant past, and a chance encounter may change his routine for the better.





	Red Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EreKanezawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EreKanezawa/gifts).

> "Surprise!" - from Anna ♡

When Semi had gone into work that morning, early enough that he yawned his way up the elevator to the sixth floor, it had been a nice day. The weather was seasonably warm, the sky was clear, and he’d imagined a nice walk home after his shift.

But that had been a long time ago, and clearly the weather had taken a nosedive since then.

Semi stood at the plate glass front of the building, watching the rain with a frown. It wasn’t just a light, refreshing drizzle. It was a downpour. Semi thought begrudgingly of the umbrella back at his apartment, which was a nonchalant twenty-minute walk on most days. On this particular day, Semi thought he would likely drown if he stayed outside for twenty minutes.

He couldn’t walk home, but he couldn’t stay here, either. He’d put in a twelve-hour work day and the thought of sticking around even longer made him wince. He took a bracing breath, adjusted his jacket closer around his neck, and pushed through the revolving door onto the sidewalk. He was drenched immediately, and as he jogged down the street, he squinted against the rain at the nearby businesses. He didn’t do much exploring in this part of town, despite the amount of time he spent there. He was always at his desk, fighting his way through mountains of paperwork. In the mornings and evenings, he was too focused on getting to work or getting home to notice much of his surroundings. When a nondescript ramen shop caught his eye, he immediately swerved toward it, despite the unfamiliar name of the business. It didn’t matter if he’d heard of it, or if it was a good shop. It was out of the rain, and that was good enough.

Semi ducked through the door and paused on the threshold, dripping all over the mat. He shook out his hair, which was wetly glued to his face and the back of his neck, and peeled off his jacket. He hooked it on the nearby coat rack beside a very similar jacket that was longer and decidedly drier. A red umbrella was propped just beneath it, dripping in a similar fashion to Semi’s hair.

At least someone had been smart enough to carry an umbrella.

The entryway of the shop was a cramped, plain room. It was only when Semi crept further and peered around the corner that he found the restaurant part of the business. It was small, with a few sets of tables and chairs scattered about the scratched wooden floor. They were all vacant, but the counter lined with tall chairs, behind which a wide flat-screen television was perched, had several guests. Semi joined them, taking the chair at the very end of the counter, a couple of seats away from a man who’d clearly gotten caught in the rain too, judging by the state of his hair.

The shop owner popped his head around the corner. “It still coming down out there?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. He realized there were no windows in here; the weather could have been a mystery, if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. “It’s pouring.”

The man nodded. “It should taper off in a little while. What can I get you?”

Once the order was placed, the man disappeared into the back again. Semi sighed and pushed his hair back with both hands, smoothing it away from his face and sending twin trickles of water dripping down his temples. He wiped them away with his sleeves, which were mostly dry, thanks to his jacket.

Semi felt himself being watched, and glanced to the side to find the man two seats down eyeing him with a raised brow.

“You got a little wet out there,” he said.

Semi held back the first comment that came to mind, which was a little too rude to say in public, and settled with, “Yeah, I noticed.”

The man grinned and turned back to the television. Semi noticed only then that it was broadcasting a volleyball match.

“That’ll be out in a few,” said the shop owner, re-emerging from the back.

“That’s fine,” said Semi. “I’m not exactly in a rush.”

The stranger two seats down snorted quietly. Semi frowned at him, and realized that perhaps the man hadn’t gotten rained on, after all. He appeared perfectly dry, which left no plausible reason why his hair looked like that.

“Your team is still losing, Kuroo,” said the shop owner, leaning against the counter to watch the match.

“They’re not my team,” said the stranger; Kuroo, apparently. “My team didn’t make it to nationals this year. They’ll be there next year though, and I’ll be right back here to say I told you so.”

The shopkeeper rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Either way, the team you picked is still losing. Thought you said they were the best this year.”

“They are. They’re slow starters, but they’ll pull it together when it counts. They’re way better than _those_ losers.”

Semi squinted at the screen and recognized the volleyball court splashed across it. He’d been there twice before, during his first two years of high school, when they’d qualified for the national tournament. They should’ve gone during the third year, too. They’d been robbed of that, but it had been a long time ago. Semi wasn’t bitter about it anymore.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

More familiar than the court was the team uniforms on one side of it. Shiratorizawa purple, with one white buoy bobbing around to receive the ball. It was their away uniforms; they must have worn the usual colors earlier in the day.

At least Kuroo the stranger had good taste. Everyone knew Shiratorizawa had a strong team this year. They were one of the top picks to come out on top.

Then Semi realized that Shiratorizawa was winning, and Kuroo had been talking about the opposing team.

“Bullshit,” said Semi, before he could stop himself. “Shiratorizawa is winning the whole tournament this year.”

Kuroo’s eyes went narrow. “What do you know about it?”

“More than you, obviously,” said Semi. “Shiratorizawa won last year, and three years before that. When was the last time Fukurodani won? Ten years ago? Longer?”

The shopkeeper shook his head and slipped into the back room, either to check on Semi’s order or avoid the argument.

“Twelve years ago, to be specific,” said Kuroo. “If I recall, Shiratorizawa didn’t even make it to nationals that year.”

Semi’s decade-old bitterness flared up again. He remembered all too well that they hadn’t made it. “Doesn’t matter. Twelve years is a long time, and Fukurodani’s gone downhill since then. Obviously Shiratorizawa is better.”

“Keep telling yourself that. You’ll just be disappointed.”

Semi rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue further. There was no point. Kuroo was obviously dedicated to being wrong.

When Semi’s food arrived a short while later, the rich smell of it warming him down to his rain-soaked bones, Fukurodani had gained a couple of points, which Kuroo was quick to point out to the shop owner.

“See? What did I say,” gloated Kuroo. “Slow starters, but they’re catching up.”

“They’re still losing,” said Semi flatly. He took a careful sip of the broth, uncertain of the quality considering the almost-vacant state of the business. But the taste was amazing, and he slurped up another spoonful before diving into the noodles.

“Not for long,” said Kuroo.

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” asked Semi. “If they’re not even your team.”

“Fukurodani has a special place in my heart,” said Kuroo. He sounded solemn, until his mouth tilted into a grin. “And if Nekoma can’t be there to win, they’re the next best choice.”

Semi shook his head, but said nothing. Nekoma hadn’t been in the tournament in at least three years, but if Kuroo was this adamant about defending his secondary team, he might physically fight Semi for insulting Nekoma.

Semi thought that was a strange team to support. They were okay, and on the occasions they made it to the tournament, their defensive strategies were amazing. Even so, they weren’t one of the top contenders. It took a special sort of dedication to stick with a team that had been out of the running for a few years. Kuroo must have had some sort of special connection with them.

Semi eyed Kuroo again, more closely this time. He wore slacks and a button-up, with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His forearms were lean but strong, and despite his slouch, he looked tall. If he’d played volleyball, he had the height to be a good middle blocker. If he’d been at Nekoma, though, it hadn’t been recently. He appeared to be around thirty, close to Semi’s age. It would have been over ten years ago, if he’d been part of that team. Maybe around the same time Semi had played.

Semi squinted at him. He distantly remembered playing against Nekoma at nationals during his second year of high school. He’d been the starting setter back then, and he’d been infinitely frustrated at Nekoma’s skilled defense. Ushijima had broken through them, of course, but not without a struggle. There had been one middle blocker in particular who’d clawed at Semi’s nerves, one with a taunting grin and flashing eyes and a mess of dark hair…

But it couldn’t be the same guy. The odds were impossible.

“What?” said Kuroo.

Semi realized he was still staring. He snapped his stare back down to his food and mumbled, “Nothing.” He focused on eating, but felt Kuroo’s eyes on him, speculating.

“There’s the second set gone,” said the shop owner. “Both to Shiratorizawa.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Kuroo. “Fukurodani has hit their stride now. They’ve got this.”

Semi made a quiet noise under his breath, but it must have been loud enough for Kuroo to hear.

“Shiratorizawa isn’t even that good,” said Kuroo, tilting his head. “Their powerhouse ace graduated last year. They’re not strong anymore.”

“They still have good players,” snapped Semi. “One person doesn’t make or break a team. And they’re still crushing Fukurodani, so I don’t know why you’re so smug about it.”

“You used to play for them,” said Kuroo. It wasn’t a question. “You wouldn’t be so defensive otherwise.”

Semi said nothing.

“When?” pressed Kuroo.

“A long time ago.” Semi slurped up another bite of noodles.

The third set of the match began, with Fukurodani taking a surprising lead. Semi thought Kuroo would be so distracted that he would drop the subject.

He was wrong.

“You were the setter,” said Kuroo after a few minutes had drizzled by. “We played against you at nationals when I was a second-year. I remember you because you glared at me the entire time. Yeah, _that_ glare.”

Semi looked at the television instead. “You’re probably remembering someone else.”

“No, it was definitely you. You look the same. Except you had a hair situation going on back then. Dip-dyed or something.”

Semi blinked and refocused on Kuroo. Semi hadn’t dyed his hair since university. If Kuroo knew that, then he must’ve really remembered. Semi thought again about the Nekoma middle blocker he’d played against, with the sharp grin and sharper eyes.

Kuroo gave a grin that was identical to the one from twelve years ago.

“You earned that glare,” said Semi. “You were the most annoying middle blocker at the entire tournament.”

Kuroo’s grin vanished, then returned, a little softer. “You remember me?”

“Vaguely,” said Semi. “I only remember you were a pain in the ass.”

“I’m honored,” said Kuroo, smile widening. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. In case you don’t remember my name.”

Semi didn’t remember, but now that he knew he’d seen Kuroo before, it seemed distantly familiar. “Semi Eita.”

“Semi Eita,” echoed Kuroo. “Yeah, I remember you. You had one hell of a serve.”

Semi bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Thanks.”

“You still play?”

“Not since university,” said Semi. “I work too much. No time for anything else.”

Kuroo’s slouch became more pronounced. “Yeah, me too. I never knew how good life was back in high school. Kids just don’t understand.”

Semi snorted. “You say that like you’re elderly.”

“I feel like it most of the time. So you work around here?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. “Right down the street at-”

“Did you see that spike?” blurted the shop owner. “From a middle blocker! That was amazing!”

Semi had been too distracted by Kuroo to see it, but judging from the half of the audience that was cheering, it was Fukurodani who’d made the amazing spike.

Kuroo smiled, smug, and said, “See? They’re making their comeback.”

“Whatever,” said Semi. “Shiratorizawa will destroy them.”

Semi finished his meal, and even when the shop owner collected his empty bowl, Semi didn’t consider leaving. He watched the rest of the match with just as much interest as Kuroo, combating his taunts and bragging when Shiratorizawa made a particularly good play.

To Semi’s surprise, Fukurodani took the third set, and then the fourth. It was down to the fifth, and Semi was so fixated on the tv that he wouldn’t have noticed if it had started raining inside the shop.

“They’ve got this, they’ve totally got this,” said Kuroo, perched on the extreme edge of his seat.

“No, they don’t. Their setter is getting tired, just look at him. His last few sets have been sloppy. Shiratorizawa is more disciplined, there’s no way they’ll-”

Fukurodani’s wing spiker slammed a spike across the net, and Semi winced.

“What was that about being sloppy?” said Kuroo, as the tv audience erupted into cheers. “Must’ve been talking about your own team, because that block was embarrassing.”

Semi slumped onto the counter with a groan. He’d been certain Shiratorizawa would win. They’d done so well last year.

“Oh well,” said Kuroo. He leaned over to give Semi a companionable – and somehow smug – pat on the shoulder. “Better luck next year.”

“At least my team made it into nationals,” said Semi, raising his head just enough to glare. “Nekoma didn’t even make the cut.”

He expected Kuroo to be offended, but that comment was shrugged off with an effortless grin. “So you’re a sore loser. I’d expect that from one of Shiratorizawa’s players.”

“Only because we’re so used to winning. Too bad you can’t say the same.”

Kuroo laughed, and it was a pitch higher than his speaking voice. Semi couldn’t help the slight tug of his own smile. “We won plenty back in my day, and we’ll win plenty again. Starting next year.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I suppose we will.” Kuroo slid off of his seat and raised his arms overhead, face contorting as he stretched. Semi realized just how long they’d been sitting there. Kuroo popped his neck and said, “I wonder if the rain’s stopped.”

“I hope so.” Semi fished his wallet out of his pocket. It was still damp, and he plucked out a handful of yen to pay for his meal. “If it hasn’t, it’s going to be a long walk home.”

Kuroo hummed. “Maybe it’s all rainbows and sunshine out there now. We’ll see. It was good watching the match with you. Especially because your team lost.”

Semi rolled his eyes. “Fukurodani just got lucky.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I’ll see you around sometime?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. He didn’t know how likely that was, but he wouldn’t mind it. “Maybe.”

“See you.” Kuroo tossed him a wave and headed toward the exit. Semi watched him go, and turned back to hand his money to the shop owner, who invited him to come back sometime soon. Semi thought he would. The place wasn’t exactly classy, but the food was impressive, and any shop that played volleyball matches was automatically a good one.

Semi was stiff when he stood, and stretched much in the same way Kuroo had. He checked his watch and realized he’d been there for an hour and a half. Surely the rain had died down by now.

He stepped into the small entryway and peered out the square window by the door. It was dark out now, but the rain was still coming down hard, and Semi mumbled a complaint under his breath. It looked like he’d be swimming home.

He grabbed his damp jacket off of the rack. The one that had been beside of it was gone, and Semi assumed it had been Kuroo’s.

Still propped against the wall, now resting below Semi’s jacket, was the red umbrella.

Semi stared at it, looked around the small room, and then peered out the window again. There was no sign of Kuroo, but it was no mystery whose umbrella had been left there. It couldn’t have been by mistake. As soon as he’d stepped into the rain, Kuroo would have remembered it.

He’d left it for Semi on purpose, and Semi smiled as he reached for it.

The walk home still wasn’t pleasant. There was water in Semi’s shoes, and the hems of his pants were soaked through.

But the worst of it was allayed by the red umbrella. Semi wondered if Kuroo had bought that one because it was Nekoma red, or if it was a coincidence. He also wondered if he would ever see Kuroo again.

He hoped so, and not just so he could return the umbrella.

  
  
  
  
  
It was a long week, but that was nothing new. Semi had said the same of every single week for the past year, at least.

At least the weather had improved.

The following Monday when Semi walked into the office, it was with the warmth of an early morning sun on the back of his neck. The sky was crystal blue, there were no clouds, and he only hoped the weather held out until evening, when he left again.

But even if it didn’t, Semi wasn’t too worried. He’d learned his lesson the week before, and had a Nekoma-red umbrella tucked under his arm as he entered the building.

It was a usual day of work. Semi drank coffee until his veins jittered beneath his skin, powered his way through the stack of paperwork that had only grown over the weekend, and periodically glanced at the time to count down the hours until he could leave again. It would be a while, though; he had too much to do for a normal workday, and didn’t want to be known as the guy who couldn’t finish his tasks. He’d stay late, as always. It was his routine now.

When the time ticked toward noon, Semi wrapped up a couple of loose ends, paced to the opposite side of the room to check the weather out the window, and made his way downstairs. Most of the time he brought his own lunch from home, because it was much cheaper than dining out. That particular morning he’d been in too much of a rush, and he thought one quick meal wouldn’t bankrupt him.

He made his way outside slowly, soaking in some sunlight along the way, and slipped into the busy shop across the street. The line to the counter consisted of his fellow office workers, which was evident both because of the similar way they were all dressed, and because Semi saw the same people every time he stopped by to get lunch. Some of the men waiting in front of him collected their food and branched off to the small tables nearby, enjoying the short break from work. Semi considered it, but imagined the extra work he could squeeze in if he ate at his desk instead, and ordered his food as takeout.

He was waiting at the crosswalk, warm bag of food in hand, when he saw a familiar head of dark hair bob by on the opposite side of the street. Semi stared too long, wondering if he was mistaken, but the man paused at the building entrance to glance over his shoulder before making his way inside.

The quick glimpse of his face was enough for Semi to be certain.

As soon as the crosswalk light flashed green, Semi darted across, weaving his way through the slower pedestrians. He jogged to the building Kuroo had entered, which happened to be Semi’s own office building. He tried to remember if Kuroo had said where he worked, when they’d met last week, but thought he hadn’t. The odds of him working in the same place seemed low, and Semi knew he’d never seen him there before; but then again, there were hundreds of people in and out of that building every day. It was possible that they’d never run into each other before.

Semi pushed through the revolving door and stopped in the middle of the foyer, looking around the lobby for a familiar face. There were plenty of people milling about, probably stretching their lunch hour to its breaking point, but Kuroo wasn’t among them. He wasn’t anywhere.

Semi sighed, dragged himself toward the elevator, and mentally chided himself for being disappointed. He didn’t know what he would’ve said anyway, if he’d caught up to Kuroo. They didn’t know each other outside of one chance meeting, and one match played over a decade ago. Just because they had one singular thing in common didn’t mean Semi could just stroll right up to him and start a conversation as if they were something resembling friends. Kuroo would probably think he was strange.

Semi watched the flashing numbers above the elevator doors as it ascended. It stopped at floor 3 before cruising back down to the ground floor to pick him up. Semi pondered that, much too thoroughly, as he boarded the elevator and returned to his desk on the fourth floor. He’d intended to work through his lunch, as he did nearly every day. He organized his paperwork in such a way that it was accessible, even as he started on his food, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was barely even aware that he was eating, his body feeding itself on autopilot. His mind was busy with something entirely different, gears whirring as he puzzled through his options. The obvious one was to stick to his daily routine, pretend nothing had happened, and move on with his life.

The obvious one wasn’t the one that he chose.

He wasn’t even halfway through his takeout when he abruptly stood and grabbed the red umbrella from beneath his desk, where he’d stored it away. He headed back to the elevator and waited with an extreme lack of patience for it to arrive. When it did, he stepped inside, hesitated for a few seconds too long, and finally selected the number 3.

Even as the doors slid closed, even as he descended, and even when he braced himself to take the single step out to the third floor, he thought he should probably just turn around and go back. It was very possible that he was about to embarrass himself.

But at least that embarrassment would be a relatively quiet affair, because it appeared that most of the third floor was still out for lunch. There were a few diligent workers remaining, typing away at their keyboards with such focus that they didn’t even notice Semi.

Kuroo was one of them, seated at a desk tucked away against the far wall, frowning at his computer screen with absolute focus. His hair had been combed into something resembling orderliness, but here and there, rebellious strands were beginning to break away and curl into the mess Semi had witnessed the week before. He looked like the high schooler Semi had seen a long time ago, now wearing a business suit and pretending to be a successful adult. Only the small collection of lines at the corners of his eyes revealed he was no longer a teenager, and the dark circles beneath them that suggested a lack of proper sleep. He was handsome all the same, and Semi couldn’t judge him for that, especially. He knew he didn’t look very well-rested, either.

Again, Semi thought he should just turn around and go back to his desk.

Again, he acted against his better judgment and approached, coming to an uncertain stop at the corner of Kuroo’s desk.

Kuroo made a sound that was somewhere between a question and an acknowledgment. He was so fixated on the columns of numbers on his screen that he hadn’t looked up.

Semi cleared his throat, glanced around, and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” returned Kuroo. He clicked a few times, scrolled halfway down the page, and finally glanced up. It clearly took him a few seconds to understand that it was Semi standing in front of him. Semi saw the instant that the realization struck, made obvious by the widening of warm hazel eyes. Kuroo blinked a few times, and repeated, “Hey. What’re you… I mean, I didn’t think… Do you work here?”

“Yeah, I, umm… yeah, one floor up. I saw you passing by and I thought…” Semi trailed off, uncertain of what he’d intended to say next. This was more awkward than it should have been, considering how well they’d gotten along the week before. Maybe Semi had misremembered that encounter, had somehow mentally sculpted it into something more positive than it was. He shook his head and said, “I just wanted to return this.”

Kuroo stared at the red umbrella as Semi extended it toward him. He blinked, and said, “Oh. Oh! That’s not… I wasn’t expecting to get it back. I don’t live too far from here, and I figured you needed it more than I did. You can keep it, in case you get caught in the rain again.”

“That’s okay,” said Semi. “I just didn’t have my umbrella that day. I have one at home.”

Kuroo still seemed a little dumbfounded, and Semi considered his options for a hasty retreat. But then Kuroo huffed a breath through his nose, and his mouth stretched into that grin Semi had seen the week before. “Maybe you have your own, but it’s not a fancy Nekoma one. Obviously this is an upgrade for you.”

Some of Semi’s tension left him, melting away from the stiff set of his shoulders. “It’s not anything special. It’s just red.”

“It’s Nekoma-themed if I say it is,” insisted Kuroo. “I was on the team. I have that authority.”

“You don’t have authority over anything,” said Semi, with a roll of his eyes. He perched the umbrella on the edge of Kuroo’s desk. “Here’s your _plain_ umbrella back. The plain umbrella that has nothing to do with any volleyball teams. You’re welcome.”

Kuroo’s answering grin was all teeth. Semi started to walk away, but hesitated. 

“And, umm… thanks,” said Semi, more quietly. “For letting me use it. It had been a really shitty day and that helped.”

He half-expected Kuroo to taunt him for such sappy gratitude, but he seemed to be caught off-guard by it. Kuroo blinked, his grin replaced with surprise, and said, “Right. Yeah, you’re welcome. Anytime.”

Semi nodded, and retraced his steps back to the elevator. He wondered if he should have said something else, or if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. It was unlikely that this would affect him all that much, because if he’d never run into Kuroo before, the chances of seeing him around were low.

He pretended he wasn’t disappointed by that.

“Hey, hang on a second. Semi?”

The elevator door had been closing, but a hand slapped inside just before it sealed. The door sprang back open, and Kuroo stood on the threshold.

“Hey,” repeated Kuroo.

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing today?” said Kuroo. “Well you’re working, obviously, but after that. What’re you doing later?”

There was a nervous lurch in Semi’s gut. “Working even more. I’ll probably stay late.”

“I’ll be here until six-thirty,” said Kuroo. He leaned against the elevator frame, trying to look casual, one foot extended to keep the door from trying to close. “We could go get dinner, after that. If you want. I know a place.”

“Is it the ramen place from last week?”

Kuroo grinned. “Maybe. You seemed to like it.”

Semi had liked it, both the shop and the company. “It was okay.”

“Is that a yes?”

Semi bit his lip, thinking, and finally said, “Yeah, okay.”

Kuroo’s grin went impossibly wider. “Good. I’ll meet you downstairs later?”

“Sure. I’ll meet you there.”

Kuroo nodded, and took a step back. The elevator door slid closed, and the last thing Semi saw on the other side was Kuroo’s smile.

  
  
  
  
  
That afternoon, Semi wasn’t as productive as he should have been. He tried, but it was difficult to focus on work when his thoughts kept drifting downstairs, where he would be meeting Kuroo to go to dinner. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. Of course he’d hoped to find some sort of excuse to speak to Kuroo again. That had been his main goal when returning the umbrella. But he hadn’t expected _this_.

When 6 o’clock struck, Semi knew he should keep working, but he was physically incapable of it. He sat and watched the time drift by, so slowly that he thought his watch might be broken. At six-twenty he couldn’t wait any longer, and made his way downstairs.

To his surprise, Kuroo was already waiting.

They made their way down the street, and it was fortunate that Semi was with Kuroo, because he wouldn’t have found the shop again on his own. His mad dash through the rain had taken him further than he’d expected.

There was another volleyball match on, but Semi didn’t recognize the court or the teams. The voiceover was in Korean, and although he had no personal investment in the foreign players, he still felt obligated to rally for the team that Kuroo declared as the impending losers. They argued over the match while they ate, and while it was similar to their chance meeting from the week before, it was more comfortable. They discussed volleyball, but they also talked about what they’d done since high school, and compared the university teams they’d each played for.

Kuroo insisted that his team had been better, of course, but Semi adamantly disagreed.

When they’d finished their meal, and stayed to watch the end of the match to see who won – it was the team Semi had chosen, and he was quite pleased – Kuroo slipped the shop owner enough money to cover both of them and ushered Semi out, ignoring his protests.

“I can pay for my own food, you know. We work at the same place, I know they don’t pay you a lot.”

“You could just say thank you,” suggested Kuroo, as they plucked their coats from the rack and shrugged them on. “That’s the polite thing to do.”

“Have I done anything to make you think I’m polite?” said Semi.

Kuroo laughed. “You’re right, my mistake.” He opened the door took a half-step, and came to a dead stop. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Semi didn’t even have to look. He heard the downpour through the open door, hammering against the street. He moved close to Kuroo and peered around him anyway, just in case he was imagining it. The drenched state of the sidewalk proved he wasn’t. “The sun was out when we came in here, right?”

“Yeah,” said Kuroo. “I think so, anyway. I wasn’t really paying attention.” He flipped the red umbrella in his hand and offered it to Semi. “Guess you shouldn’t have given it back after all.”

Semi didn’t take it. “You’ve already had to run home in the rain once because of me. I’ll be fine, I really don’t live that far away.”

“How far is not far?”

Semi considered lying, but he’d never been good at it. “Twenty minutes.”

“Seriously? You’ll drown on the way there. Take the umbrella.”

“No. It’s yours.”

“Semi, c’mon. I’m trying to be nice here.”

“I don’t need it,” said Semi. He didn’t particularly like the thought of walking home in this weather, but he wasn’t going to be an inconvenience. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

Kuroo considered him with narrow eyes, and sighed as he came to a decision. “Okay, fine.” He popped the umbrella open as he stepped through the door, and the tenor of the pattering rain shifted into something more direct. Kuroo extended a hand, raindrops splashing against his fingers, and said, “Come on.”

Semi didn’t move. “What?”

“I’ll walk you home. That way we’ll both stay dry. Come on.”

“You can’t do that,” said Semi. “It’s too far out of your way. I don’t want to-”

“If you don’t, I’ll just wander around the streets for twenty minutes anyway. You can’t stop me.”

Semi tried to be irritated, but it was difficult with Kuroo smiling at him like that, softer than the taunting grins he’d offered for most of the evening. With a sigh, he gave in, and stepped beneath the shelter of the umbrella. Kuroo’s arm threaded through Semi’s, keeping him close as they started walking.

Their mismatched heights made it difficult for both of them to keep dry, and by the time they arrived at Semi’s apartment they were both half-drenched. Semi didn’t mind, and Kuroo didn’t seem to, either.

“It’s this one,” said Semi, pulling to a stop. Kuroo stopped too; he had to, because their arms were still linked. Semi steered him into the shelter of the apartment’s overhang, and Kuroo shook out the umbrella with a spray of water.

“You didn’t have to walk me out here,” said Semi. The entire right side of Kuroo’s suit was soaked through. “You could’ve already been home and dry.”

Kuroo shrugged. “I’d rather be here in the rain than home without you." 

Semi’s face grew warm. He looked away and hoped Kuroo didn’t notice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Semi waited for Kuroo to walk away, to dive back into the downpour and make his way home. But he didn’t move, and finally Semi glanced back to find Kuroo watching him.

“I didn’t do a great job,” said Kuroo. He reached out, hesitated, and carefully pushed a wet clump of hair away from Semi’s face. “You still could’ve drowned.”

Semi swallowed, and his face heated to a boil. “I didn’t, though. It’s fine.”

“I’ll do better next time,” promised Kuroo. “If you’re okay with a next time. Do you want to get dinner again soon?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

Kuroo smiled, but it was more subdued than his usual grins; careful, almost. His hand was on Semi’s shoulder. It must have fallen there after he’d adjusted Semi’s hair, and Semi had been too distracted to notice. “You’re alright, for someone from Shiratorizawa.”

Semi snorted, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Yeah, you’re not that bad, either.”

Kuroo edged a little closer, and then a little more. Semi knew what he was doing, knew what he was thinking. On a different day he may have been uncomfortable, having this moment on a public sidewalk. But today everyone had gone indoors to avoid the rain, and there was no one around to see them.

Kuroo glanced at Semi’s mouth, just for a second, before meeting his eyes again. “Is it okay if I…?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. It was a whisper, because they were so close that he didn’t need to speak any louder. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Kuroo moved slowly still, as if waiting for Semi to have second thoughts. But he didn’t, and when Semi felt Kuroo’s breath against his lips, he leaned in to meet him.

Kuroo smelled like cool spice, but his mouth was warm enough to banish Semi’s rain-damp shivers. The kiss lingered, and when they drifted apart, Semi wished it had lasted longer.

Kuroo looked at him, a bit dazed. “Yeah,” he said, “we should definitely go out again.”

Semi laughed under his breath and reluctantly took a step back. “Maybe next time I’ll let you come upstairs and dry off.”

Kuroo’s answering grin was wide, a little crooked, and devastatingly handsome. “I look forward to next time, then.” He popped the umbrella open, gave Semi a last, lingering smile, and stepped back into the rain.

Semi almost called out to him, to invite him upstairs after all, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to rush this. They would have plenty of opportunities the next time they went out, or the time after that, or the one after that, if they made it that far. Semi hoped they did. Kuroo had terrible taste in volleyball teams, but Semi could forgive him for that. Everyone had their flaws, and Semi thought he could learn to like all of Kuroo’s.


End file.
